


Moths

by AtaraxiaVorfreude



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, Romance, Science Fiction, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtaraxiaVorfreude/pseuds/AtaraxiaVorfreude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no pictures to remember Mia by. There is only this moment, and she is latching onto it like a moth to a flame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Laura and Mia give me so many feels. This fan fiction is the direct result of the emotions they stir within me. 
> 
> The following is the prologue and it is based off of the finale of Season 1 where Laura and Mia say goodbye to each other. Chapter 1 is almost complete and will be posted in due time. The chapters, naturally, won't be as short as the prologue. Anyhow, enjoy! :)

They are in the crypt. They're staring.

Laura's wet eyes look intently at Mia, at her perfect lips, the unreal green of her eyes, and her soft, dark hair. Her hand is settled against Mia's back, and she can feel the calming coolness of her body.

There are no pictures to remember Mia by. There is only this moment, and she is latching onto it like a moth to a flame. _Stay_ , she thinks for a passing second, but then she shakes her head, chides herself for her ridiculous thought, and shoves it into the recesses of her mind. Soon, she believes the thought has never been, but her eyes are still wet, her cheeks are still hot from tears, and her hand is still on Mia's back.

_Don't go._

Startled by the conjuring of her subconscious once more, she allows her higher mind to take control; she feels the burning gazes of her children and her husband. Mia seems to too, as she is the first to let go. As the Synth releases herself from the embrace, her hand slides down Laura's arm before falling limply to her side. They both flinch for a moment at their severed embrace, gazes wavering, longing.

Why do Joe's watchful eyes make her feel so uneasy? Laura wonders. The transpiring had merely been a farewell embrace with a friend, her closest friend. She is certain she'll get over it eventually (but _oh_ , there is something heavy pushing on her chest; she's frightened her pulse might halt and she'll fall). Laura's face pales as she comes to the understanding that this might be their final goodbye.

The Synth seems to realize Laura's thoughts, and though she isn't capable of crying, she closes her eyes as if she is holding back tears. She then gathers her strength and turns around to leave. At this, Laura immediately loses her balance, and places a hand against her abdomen to steady herself as she watches Mia go.

Suddenly, Sophie walks forward and breaks the heavy silence. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?" she asks.

A sad smile creeps up on Laura's face as Mia stoops down and envelops her youngest daughter in her arms. "Goodbye, Little Mouse," she whispers before she releases Sophie from her hold.

And then she's gone.

While Joe and the children compose themselves, Laura remains icebound as she stares at the door from which Mia and the Elsters left.


	2. Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might take a week or so to write, as I am on vacation at the moment, and my cousins won't leave me alone! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Your ideas are welcomed if you would like to see them in my fic.
> 
> Ugh, I can't wait for the next season. I can't believe it's a year away!

For the past month, Laura has been attempting to engulf herself in her work. Presently, she is in her office. Her drowsy eyes are darting over some papers, while her hand firmly clutches a pen. Concentrating is an arduous task when her mind is overcome with worry for Mia. She sighs. She can't live like this. She must move on.

 _Focus_.

Her lips press into a thin line as she signs a few documents and places them in a folder. Her signatures are thick and coarse. The pen falls from her tight hold against her desk, and she exhales as she massages her fingers with her other hand. She then looks at a clock on the wall to her left. It’s 23:05. She decides to stay for an hour more. Mia has left her imprints everywhere at home, and it’s too much to bear.

But soon, the hour passes and she must face the inevitable. Laura places some documents she decides to review later in her leather suitcase before leaving.

The journey home is taxing, as she is afraid of hearing what Joe will say about her numerous absences. It has been roughly a week since she has last had dinner together with her family.

She feels rotten.

“I hate you,” says someone. A girl.

_Mattie?_

Her heart knocks against her chest, while her attention frantically skips to where the voice ushered. There, she finds a young girl scolding her friend for snatching the only spare seat on the trolley.

Laura mentally laughs at herself for being absurd.

When she enters her house, Joe is looking at her with furrowed brows and flared nostrils. Laura isn't alarmed. He is furious (she can't blame him), but he's trying to contain himself. "You're late again," he states through clenched teeth.

Her gaze lowers. Hesitantly, she places the suitcase she's holding on the small entry table by the front-door. "I'm sorry,"  she says. And she is; the guilt is overwhelming when she's home and facing Joe (another reason to stay at the office). "I have a lot of work to do. This case,"  she sighs, "it's taking a bit of a toll on me." A lie. The case is not complicated. Sure, there is plenty of paper work to be completed, but law school has made her accustomed to dealing with such bores.

Her eyes have dark circles underneath them. As she look upwards at Joe for a fleeting second, his gaze softens when he notices her troubled complexion. He shakes his head and ruffles his hair with his hand. "Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No," Laura responds. She hasn't eaten anything since lunch. Her appetite has been poor ever since Mia— _Stop. Stop thinking about her._

He frowns while inspecting her thinned face and form. "You need to eat," he comments.

"I ate dinner on the way," answers Laura. Another lie. These small, seemingly insignificant lies are once more adding distance between them.

 Joe only watches.

 _God,_ she can't take looking at him anymore—she can’t stand his disapproving stare. “Sorry,” she mumbles (and she means it; she is sorry for being inadequate, for being a pathetic example of a wife and mother). “There’s some work I have to finish by tonight.” Then, there is a sudden, swift current of motion: she hastily brushes past Joe, and marches through the living room and across the corridor, suitcase in tow, before reaching her study room. Joe, much to her discontent, follows. 

Her back is turned to him.

"Aren't you going to come and sleep?" he asks. He stands behind the door, too hesitant to enter, as he is afraid he won't be welcomed. "It's been a while…" he whispers, clearly pleading for carnal intimacy.

Laura freezes. "No… not now,  Joe."

He grimaces. She can tell he wants to say more as he is lingering by the door, and is breathing in sharply, as if he's about to confront her _(please don't)_. He stares at her for a moment; she can feel the disappointment and anger and concern in his glare, so she refuses to look at him. This pause persists for a few seconds that seem much too long. Finally, Laura hears him exhale the hefty air he had inhaled. He's given up. The tension in her shoulders ease.

Joe shuffles away from the doorway, while she listens to his retreating footsteps: they're languid and slow. The stairs moan as he treads up to his room, and when she's sure he's gone, she collapses onto her computer chair and burrows her face into her palms.  _What's wrong with me?_ Laura wonders, while her hands are warmed by her unsteady breaths. Soon, they are also damp with tears.

* * *

Mia's senses are losing acuity. The thick woods they are marching through are becoming a blur. She seizes Leo's arm and her eyes roll back as she withdraws into her programming to see if she can conserve her battery for a few more hours. Max, who has been walking further than the two, turns around when he hears their footsteps come to a halt. "Is everything okay?" he asks uneasily.

Leo shakes his head as he holds Mia by the back of her waist. She is leaning on him for support. Her eyes are half-shut and her gaze is slow and tired. "Can you go on?" he asks softly.

"No,'' she answers in a barely audible whisper. ''Turn me off for now." Leo frowns. Gently, he taps his finger below her chin and her head falls limply onto his chest. Her eyes close and she finds herself falling, falling...

She's dreaming.

Human dreams are fickle things. They are often forgotten by the time one has awakened. However, for Synths that are both cursed and blessed with consciousness, dreams are as garish and vivid as waking life, and what’s more, they never fade; hence, nightmares have always troubled Mia long after they have happened, and it is why she has always abhorred dreams.

But this one is beautiful.

They are in the kitchen.  The sun's rays seep in through the windows, drowning the room in light. Laura is full of colours. Warm red strands, sprinkled with gold and deep brown, fall between Mia's fingers as she digs her hand into the other woman’s hair, and pulls her closer by the back of her neck. They are breaths away; sheathed in a sedative embrace. Yearning eyes peer up at her. Mia can't make up her mind: are they green, blue or grey?  Laura is vibrant: so human, so delicate and fragile, yet tremendously strong.

"You're beautiful,'' Mia murmurs to her. ''I miss you,'' she says, voice breaking.

Laura's cheeks turn crimson. Her breath hitches and her lips part—an invitation Mia readily accepts. Carefully, she inches closer and closer until she is only a hair's breadth away.

Then, she is suddenly jolted awake.

A man peers down. A wry smile plays on his face. There is a dangerous glaze against his eyes.

Hobb.

 


End file.
